The Benefits of Rejection
by TheCrownedLioness
Summary: What happened after the end of "Yetta's Letters". Maxwell says 'no' to Niles' play - again - which leaves Niles and C.C. to talk things over.


**Hello, everyone! Well, this is my first attempt at publishing anything in The Nanny section of this site. I hope you enjoy it, I spent a lot of my holiday in Greece thinking up this and countless other ideas. I was supposed to post it yesterday, but I'd forgotten the website's 12-hour waiting time policy, so it's a slightly late birthday present for a Tumblr friend and follower.**

 **I'm sorry if anything seems out of character, I tried my best, and I promise I'll work on my writing until it's the best it can be.**

 **I don't own any of the characters, settings, etc.**

"Well?" on the arm of the seat, C.C. turned to Max, almost bouncing in place and grinning excitedly. "What do you think?"

Max looked between the hopeful faces of his business partner, and the hired actors. Then he looked at the somehow even more hopeful-looking butler, who had, in the course of Max's silence, made his way down to stand next to C.C.. If it weren't for what the Broadway producer had witnessed between them just the day before (not that he wished for a mental image), that behaviour would have struck him as odd, at best.

"Despite that interesting – if somewhat _disturbing_ – premise, I must regret to inform you all that my answer is still, and always shall be, unequivocally 'no'." He rose from his seat in the chair and turned towards his friends, one after the other. "Now, I think I shall go to bed. I'll leave you to dismiss your actors, C.C., in the trust that you haven't used company money for this. And Niles, simply for the future; please don't give me any more of your plays. Goodnight, all."

With one last, affirming nod, and an apology as he made his way through the actors who had crowded around the living room, he made his way upstairs and disappeared onto the next floor. A bedroom door slammed in the distance.  
Telling them they would be paid for their time if they came to the theatre the next day, C.C. saw the actors to the door. When she turned back to the other room, Niles had taken Max's chair, a dejected look on his face. He'd abandoned his feather duster on the coffee table. C.C. returned to the arm of the chair, taking his hand in hers and holding it in her lap.

"I'm sorry, baby."

Niles squeezed her fingers appreciatively, "It's not your fault, my sweet. If anything, I should be apologising to you – if he'd been in a worse mood, going behind his back like that could have cost you your job!"

C.C. swung her legs to the right and carefully dropped herself into his lap, leaning her back on the arm of the chair and her arms around his neck, "Well, then I would've just had to produce the play by myself, wouldn't I?"

Niles studied her face as he readjusted his arms around her waist. His eyes were quizzical, but bright, and his voice betrayed how touched he was.

"You…you would've done that?"

C.C. shrugged, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Of course! I read the play, and I meant what I said – any producer worth their salt would snap it up immediately. Maxwell's just being stubborn."

Niles sighed deeply, dropping his gaze from hers. C.C.'s hands dropped to his chest.

"I just wish I knew _why_ he's so _against_ the idea…"

C.C. began to straighten his tie absent-mindedly, "Well, maybe he's afraid of losing you? I mean, if your play was a hit, you could be asked to write more, and if you became a successful playwright, you wouldn't have to be a butler. Then you could move out, get your own place, and not have your entire day dictated to by the Sheffields…"

An uncomfortable silence followed this. Niles knew she was right – he could move out, move on, have his own life. Become rich and successful, which was something that had been especially playing on his mind, as of late (as though it ever _really_ left his thoughts). But…what about everybody he'd be leaving behind? For as much as he knew C.C. was correct, he also knew there was a large portion of his brain which was _also_ correct in informing him that Maxwell Sheffield couldn't brew a decent cup of coffee without assistance. And what about Fran, and the children? He couldn't leave _them_ , could he? They were his friends… _family_.  
And then there was C.C. to consider. He doubted their relationship would actually change if he did decide to do it. In fact, being rich might improve a few things, family-approval wise, but the thought of not seeing her whenever he wanted during the day left kind of a sinking feeling in his stomach. It made also made him realise what feeling he'd been trying to oppress when she'd quit that time and he'd automatically begun eating like Sylvia under heavy pressure. He then realised that he'd been daydreaming, and that C.C. was still waiting for him to answer.

"…Maybe…" he turned more to face her, straightening up in the chair and running one hand along her thigh. "What would you say, if I were to offer the play to another production company, seeing as Mister Sheffield rejected it?"

C.C. considered this for a moment, running her hands up and down his chest.

"Well, as a professional, I'd say go for it." She leaned in close to him, barely an inch between their lips, murmuring. "And just between us, I'd say only if that's what you _really_ want to do."

Niles' eyebrows raised, and the hand stroking C.C.'s thigh slowed, becoming more deliberate. He leaned in, so they were less than an inch apart.

"I can think of at least _one_ thing I'd _rather_ be doing…"

She let out a dirty laugh, and closed the gap between them in a heated kiss. She was also the one to pull away, grinning, and ruffling Niles' hair with one hand.

"You cheered up quickly, you dirty old man." She slipped out of his lap, took his hand and pulled him to his feet, tugging him towards the stairs. "But, seeing as I can't give you your play, I suppose there are a few things I _can_ give to make up for it…"


End file.
